The Fine Red Thread
by DiesAnotherDay
Summary: Ecila is the Mary Sue of DragonBorns and a "Saint" amongst "Barbarians" carrying a strict code of honor and a clean slate, or so she thought. However when she is forced to join the ranks of the dark brotherhood she soon learns that not all is as it seems as she slowly tears a Skyrim apart and loses everything to the darkness.


Chapter One:

Falling

* * *

Sometimes I wish for falling  
Wish for the release  
Wish for falling through the air  
To give me some relief  
Because falling's not the problem  
When I'm falling I'm in peace  
It's only when I hit the ground  
It causes all the grief

~ Florence and the Machine

* * *

Whispers…

Whispers filled the room as the shadows danced violently, the beat of their tune could only be the pounding of her heartbeat. Papers seemed to whirl as Ecila stood in a stone room filled with books and fine furnishings, she couldn't recognize nor remember what or where this place was. The memory had faded when she had come to Skyrim becoming nothing but a haze.

"Ecila," whispered the voice. Its sound was sweet, so overly sweet it made her stomach churn but she devoured its words, that delightfully, sickening voice. "Ecila, come home, mother's waiting."

Ecila made her way to the window, the same she had been staring at as the wind ripped through the room all but destroying it.

"Ecila, come home," the voice repeated itself over and over inside of her mind almost all thought flooded with sweet, sweet words.

"Ecila…"

She needed no more coaxing, she took slow heavy strides to the window finally coming to perch all but letting her feet dangle.

"Home," Ecila muttered before making the jump into the pitch black darkness below.

No thud, no fall, no cruel pain ever came. She looked around and found herself once again in an unfamiliar setting as oak tree's twisted and bent in strange otherworldly angles. The grass was a cool shade of blue and small ferns and growth littered the forest.

"So, what have we here?" Immediately she turned and saw the familiar face of the Daedric lord of madness. "It couldn't be the legendary Dragon born has come to pay dear Sheograth a visit, a sit down, a cup of tea, or perhaps a sonnet written on the back of a hooker's big toe. I got three of them in my pocket already."

Ecila's body tensed immediately, those who crossed Sheograth usually didn't escape without disasterous results.

"Is there something you need of me?" She remained calm and complacent making sure to choose her words carefully.

"Something I need of you!" He rose from his seat and stood on the arms of the golden chair, fingers twitching and knees shaking. "I am the Daedric prince of Madness, ruler of the madhouse of oblivion, the Asylum by the Daedric what's it's, the Shivering Isles."

"I know."

"You do, well I'm obliged. Who are you."

"Dragonborn," she replied keeping her patience.

"No you're not," he said twitching and shaking once more, "but I suppose you wouldn't remember now would 'yah."

"No, I wouldn't, you told me you afflicted me right?" Ecila winced as the words escaped her mouth. The last time Ecila had met Sheograth she had asked him to alleviate her amnesia. The mad god had been most insulted and threatened to make a shepherds pie from her kidneys and lungs. However he soon became distracted when she changed the topic to cheese, as if on reflex he forgot all of their argument and his delicious threats.

"True, true, and for a better reason than most, but nothing to truly boast." He jumped once more landing on the table, the same she had seen when inside the mind of Palagius. "Why don't you have a seat." Ecila's knee's gave way as a chair broke through the ground causing her to land on the cushion as roots and undergrowth tied her in place.

"You see," Sheograth began again, "we have quite a problem."

"What problem?" Ecila blurted trying to fight against her natural bonds.

"Look," her chair jerked around suddenly and all that had been their previously was now engulfed in shadow leaving a chill.

"What is that?" She asked both scared and confused.

"Well now you seem confused or as I like to call it, lacking in good judgment!" She felt a hand grab her hair and ruffly pull her head back. "That my friend is a real problem, an r-e-a-l-l-y b-i-g problem!"

"I don't…"

"Keep your trap shut, lest I pull your tongue out from behind your teeth." He paused a moment as she heard him mumble about aching teeth and little bones. "It's an omen, a sickness I didn't plant in your wee thick boned skull."

The brunette tented her brows to the mad god, a sickness he didn't create. Was that possible?

"There is only one other who can create such a rot of the mind, and I came here to give you some sort of somewhat kind of friendly advice."

The ground underneath her shifted as she came face t face with Sheograth.

"Spoil the rod and spare the kind,

Children are not quite so blind.

When the jester dances full of glee,

upon your horse the road to flee.

When silence is gone then all is lost,

When darkness comes you'll pay the cost."

Roots and grass slowly slide down her person and returned to the ground.

"This is your only warning, for this is a power out of my league. So heed wisely…" Sheograth came in close, "When mother starts a talkin' make sure you go a walkin'." The last thing Ecila could remember was sliding from her chair, slowly falling through darkness and the otherwise strange smell of rotten eggs coupled with foreign meat pies.

* * *

Ecila shot up gasping for air as damp hair clung to her face; a man sat not a few inches beside looked at her with… worry?

She was no longer in Sheograth's grasp or at least he was no longer within her mind. She was back at Honeyside, a small but warm home, with her husband of nearly three years. The former companion lay next to his wife in the simple fur and hay ensemble one would call a "love nest."

"You, okay?" Farkas asked as he sat up, looking down at his wife. "Nightmares bothering you again?"

"I'm fine?" Ecila wiped the sweat from the palms of her hands on her night clothes and lifted the damp sheets from her heated skin.

"You know you can always tell me, I may not be the best at talking but I'm a good listener." Ecila couldn't help but smile at the large brunette man. He may not have been the most handsome man in all of Skyrim but she wouldn't have him any other way. His large intimidating form only exaggerated the unusual sweetness he had exhibited since they had been together.

"I think I'll be fine," forgetting what had been an otherwise uncomfortable stickiness of her skin, she tilted her head placing a chaste kiss on his own thin lips. Strong arms wrapped around her and pulled her in lovingly.

"Are you sure," Farkas said pulling her in and taking in the scent of her hair.

"I'm sure," Ecila laughed as the grim gradually grew into a smirk; slowly she planted kisses down his neck earning a small moan of approval from the companion. Such said companion soon pulled away from her grasp and placed a more passionate show of affection her way as lips locked in their usually more adulterated fashion.

_I'll be fine,_ Ecila thought, _I'll be just fine._

* * *

The Dragonborn had heard very small rumors about a boy who was to summon the dark brotherhood. For what reason was almost completely unknown, however she found herself standing outside the Arentino residence a place she had remembered well enough. Ecila had seen the women, the mother of young Aventus in the streets at night when Windhelm was still under the otherwise hypocritical and foremost, racist rule of Ulfric Stormcloak. Ecila made no excuses and no lies when she claimed she had almost joined Ulfric's army. However Ulfric had no true intentions of letting an Imperial woman of Ecila's size and stature into his army and furthermore only wished to use her for a more personal of purposes.

Ecila felt a shudder as old memories flooded through from days spent in the Palace of the kings. His intent stares as he watched her do menial chores and her attempts at using the large Warhammers and Greatswords of the Nords. Ulfric had nearly jumped the unknown Dragonborn when he had requested her presence on the second floor in his room. When Ecila had refused his wild offers knowing no good would come from them he had turned her away and sent his guards after her.

Ulfric had accused her of stealing which had otherwise been true, however in all defense Ecila only did it to bring necessary items like medicine, food, and blankets to the impoverished Dark Elves' who suffered under Ulfric's rule, and the local Nord's boots.

She had run, run all the way to the forest that lined the great planes that lead to Whiterun. It was there Ecila had found herself stuck high up in a tree surrounded by wolves. Strangely enough that was where she had met the twins, Farkas and Vilkas everything from then on was history.

Ecila reached for the door handle but found it was locked tight. Using skills Ecila had acquired during her years as the leader of the thieves guild and an honorary Nightingale, the tumblers fell into place before anyone caught sight of it.

"Hello," Ecila called into the darkness. "Is someone here?" attentively the Queen of thieves shut the door quietly and made her way through the small room where she had no so surprisingly found the boy. However was more surprised about the otherwise barbaric sight of rotting flesh and bones as the child stabbed into a circle of candles. His hands where dark and sticky and the smell of rotting flesh filled the air creating a horrific and surreal atmosphere.

"Sweat mother, sweet mother send your child unto me." The sound of metal driving into wood rang throughout the small house. The desperation lay thick in the boys words as thick tears left streaks on his dirty face."For the sins of the unworthy must be baptized."

All sound stopped as the young Arentino boy looked towards the strange figure hovering in the darkness. "In blood and fear."

The Dragonborn could feel it; it felt as though her tongue was heavy and her throat was coated in sand. Her pupils were dialated and her head felt fuzzy as the words slipped passed her lips leaving her utterly delirious, where had those words come from? Where they a memory from her previous life before Skyrim, before the Dragonborn, Ulfric, and the mysterious rise of the Dragons?

Her thoughts were broken as the young boy stood and walked towards her staring at her miss-match armor.

"You came. You finally came."

* * *

A/N: And thus begins the first chapter of a lot of cleaning up to do. This is the same character from "In Darkness We Keep". I felt like there was too much to do a mish-mash story like I planed initially.

READ, REVIEW, LOVE!


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